CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
THE WATERMAN TURNS WATER-KNIGHT--I BECOME CHIVALROUS, SEE A BEAUTIFULFACE, AND GO WITH THE STREAM--THE ADVENTURE SEEMS TO PROMISE MORE LAWTHAN LOVE, THERE BEING PAPERS IN THE CASE THAT IS, IN A TIN-BOX.
That night I dreamed of nothing but the scene, over and over again, andthe two bars of music were constantly ringing in my ears. As soon as Ihad breakfasted the next morning I set off to Mr Turnbull's, and toldhim what had occurred.
"It was indeed fortunate that the box was landed," said he, "or youmight have now been in prison; I wish I had had nothing to do with it;but, as you say, `what's done can't be helped;' I will not give up thebox, at all events, until I know which party is entitled to it, and Icannot help thinking that the lady is. But, Jacob, you will have toreconnoitre, and find out what this story is. Tell me, do you think youcould remember the tune which he whistled so often?"
"It has been running in my head the whole night, and I have been tryingit all the way as I pulled here. I think I have it exact. Hear,sir."--I whistled the two bars.
"Quite correct, Jacob, quite correct; well, take care not to forgetthem. Where are you going to-day?"
"Nowhere, sir."
"Suppose, then, you pull up the river, and find out the place where welanded, and when you have ascertained that, you can go on and seewhether the young man is with the skiff; at all events you may find outsomething--but pray be cautious."
I promised to be very careful, and departed on my errand, which Iundertook with much pleasure, for I was delighted with anything likeadventure. I pulled up the river, and in about an hour and a-quarter,came abreast of the spot. I recognised the cottage _ornee_, the parapetwall, even the spot where we lay, and perceived that several bricks weredetached and had fallen into the river. There appeared to be no onestirring in the house, yet I continued to pull up and down, looking atthe windows; at last one opened, and a young lady looked out, who, I waspersuaded, was the same that we had seen the night before. There was nowind, and all was quiet around. She sat at the window, leaning her headon her hand. I whistled the two bars of the air. At the first bar shestarted up, and looked earnestly at me as I completed the second. Ilooked up; she waved her handkerchief once, and then shut the window.In a few seconds she made her appearance on the lawn, walking downtowards the river. I immediately pulled in under the wall. I laid inmy sculls, and held on, standing up in the boat.
"Who are you? and who sent you?" said she, looking down on me, anddiscovering one of the most beautiful faces I had ever beheld.
"No one sent me ma'am," replied I, "but I was in the boat last night. Iam sorry you were so unfortunate, but your box and cloak are quitesafe."
"You were one of the men in the boat. I trust no one was hurt when theyfired at you?"
"No ma'am."
"And where is the box?"
"In the house of the person who was with me."
"Can he be trusted? For they will offer large rewards for it."
"I should think so, ma'am," replied I, smiling; "the person who was withme is a gentleman of large fortune, who was amusing himself on theriver. He desires me to say that he will not give up the box until heknows to whom the contents legally belong."
"Good heavens, how fortunate! Am I to believe you?"
"I should hope so, ma'am."
"And what are you, then? You are not a waterman?"
"Yes, ma'am, I am."
She paused, looked earnestly at me for a little while, and thencontinued, "How did you learn the air you whistled?"
"The young gentleman whistled it six or seven times last night beforeyou came. I tried it this morning coming up, as I thought it would bethe means of attracting your attention. Can I be of any service to you,ma'am?"
"Service--yes, if I could be sure you were to be trusted--of thegreatest service. I am confined here--cannot send a letter--watched asI move--only allowed the garden, and even watched while I walk here.They are most of them in quest of the tin box to-day, or I should not beable to talk to you so long." She looked round at the house anxiously,and then said, "Stop here a minute, while I walk a little." She thenretreated, and paced up and down the garden walk. I still remainedunder the wall, so as not to be perceived from the house. In aboutthree or four minutes she returned and said, "It would be very cruel--itwould be more than cruel--it would be very wicked of you to deceive me,for I am very unfortunate and very unhappy." The tears started in hereyes. "You do not look as if you would. What is your name?"
"Jacob Faithful, ma'am, and I will be true to my name, if you will putyour trust in me. I never deceived any one that I can recollect; andI'm sure I would not you--now that I've seen you."
"Yes, but money will seduce everybody."
"Not me, ma'am. I've as much as I wish for."
"Well, then, I will trust you, and think you sent from heaven to my aid;but how am I to see you? To-morrow my uncle will be back, and then Ishall not be able to speak to you one moment, and if seen to speak toyou, you will be laid in wait for, and perhaps shot."
"Well, ma'am," replied I, after a pause, "if you cannot speak, you canwrite. You see that the bricks on the parapet are loose here. Put yourletter under this brick--I can take it away even in day-time, withoutbeing noticed, and can put the answer in the same place, so that you cansecure it when you come out."
"How very clever! Good heavens, what an excellent idea!"
"Was the young gentleman hurt, ma'am, in the scuffle last night?"inquired I.
"No, I believe not much, but I wish to know where he is, to write tohim; could you find out?" I told her where we had met him, and what hadpassed. "That was Lady Auburn's," replied she; "he is often there--sheis our cousin but I don't know where he lives, and how to find him Iknow not. His name is William Wharncliffe. Do you think you could findhim out?"
"Yes, ma'am, with a little trouble it might be done. They ought to knowwhere he is at Lady Auburn's."
"Yes, some of the servants might--but how will you get to them?"
"That, ma'am, I must find out. It may not be done in one day, or twodays, but if you will look every morning under this brick, if there isanything to communicate you will find it there."
"You can write and read, then?"
"I should hope so, ma'am," replied I, laughing.
"I don't know what to make of you. Are you really a waterman?"
"Really, and--" She turned her head round at the noise of a windowopening.
"You must go--don't forget the brick;" and she disappeared.
I shoved my wherry along by the side of the wall, so as to remainunperceived until I was clear of the frontage attached to the cottage;and then, taking my sculls, pulled into the stream; and as I wasresolved to see if I could obtain any information at Lady Auburn's, Ihad to pass the garden again, having shoved my boat down the riverinstead of up, when I was under the wall. I perceived the young ladywalking with a tall man by her side; he speaking very energetically, andusing much gesticulation, she holding down her head. In another minutethey were shut out from my sight. I was so much stricken with thebeauty and sweetness of expression in the young lady's countenance thatI was resolved to use my best exertions to be of service to her. Inabout an hour-and-a-half I had arrived at the villa, abreast of which wehad met the young gentleman, and which the young lady had told mebelonged to Lady Auburn. I could see no one in the grounds, nor indeedin the house. After watching a few minutes, I landed as near to thevilla as I could, made fast the wherry, and walked round to theentrance. There was no lodge, but a servant's door at one side. Ipulled the bell, having made up my mind how to proceed as I was walkingup. The bell was answered by an old woman, who, in a snarling tone,asked me "what did I want?"
"I am waiting below, with my boat, for Mr Wharncliffe; has he comeyet?"
"Mr Wharncliffe! No--he's not come; nor did he say that he would come;when did you see him?"
"Yesterday. Is Lady Auburn at home?"
"Lady Auburn--no
; she went to town this morning; everybody goes toLondon now, that they may not see the flowers and green trees, Isuppose."
"But I suppose Mr Wharncliffe will come," continued I, "so I must waitfor him."
"You can do just as you like," replied the old woman, about to shut thegate in my face.
"May I request a favour of you, ma'am, before you shut the gate--whichis, to bring me a little water to drink, for the sun is hot, and I havehad a long pull up here;" and I took out my handkerchief and wiped myface.
"Yes, I'll fetch you some," replied she, shutting the gate and goingaway.
"This don't seem to answer very well," thought I to myself. The oldwoman returned, opened the gate, and handed me a mug of water. I dranksome, thanked her, and returned the mug.
"I am very tired," said I; "I should like to sit down and wait for thegentleman."
"Don't you sit down when you pull?" inquired the old woman.
"Yes," replied I.
"Then you must be tired of sitting, I should think, not of standing; atall events, if you want to sit, you can sit in your boat, and mind it atthe same time." With this observation she shut the door upon me, andleft me without any more comment.
After this decided repulse on the part of the old woman, I had nothingto do but take her advice--viz., to go and look after my boat. I pulleddown to Mr Turnbull's, and told him my good and bad fortune. It beinglate, he ordered me some dinner in his study, and we sat therecanvassing over the affair. "Well," said he, as we finished, "you mustallow me to consider this as my affair, Jacob, as I was the occasion ofour getting mixed up in it. You must do all that you can to find thisyoung man, and I shall hire Stapleton's boat by the day until wesucceed; you need not tell him so, or he may be anxious to know why.To-morrow you go down to old Beazeley's?"
"Yes, sir; you cannot hire me to-morrow."
"Still I shall, as I want to see you to-morrow morning before you go.Here's Stapleton's money for yesterday and to-day and now good-night."
I was at Mr Turnbull's early the next morning, and found him with thenewspapers before him. "I expected this, Jacob," said he; "read thatadvertisement." I read as follows:--"Whereas, on Friday night last,between the hours of nine and ten, a tin box, containing deeds andpapers, was handed into a wherry from the grounds of a villa betweenBrentford and Kew, and the parties who owned it were prevented fromaccompanying the same. This is to give notice, that a reward of twentypounds will be paid to the watermen, upon their delivering up the sameto Messrs. James and John White, of Number 14 Lincoln's Inn Fields. Asno other parties are authorised to receive the said tin box of papers,all other applications for it must be disregarded. An early attentionto this advertisement will oblige."
"There must be papers of no little consequence in that box, Jacob,depend upon it," said Mr Turnbull; "however, here they are, and herethey shall remain until I know more about it; that's certain. I intendto try what I can do myself with the old woman, for I perceive the villais to be let for three months--here is the advertisement in the lastcolumn. I shall go to town to-day, and obtain a ticket from the agent,and it is hard but I'll ferret out something. I shall see youto-morrow. Now you may go, Jacob."
I hastened away, as I had promised to be down to old Tom's to breakfast;an hour's smart pulling brought me to the landing-place, opposite to hishouse.
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